


055 - Valentine's Day

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: An anonymous person asked me, on February 14th, if I was going to do a themed one. I said I hadn’t planned on it, but if they wanted a Valentine’s Day one I would add it to the request list. Here we are.





	055 - Valentine's Day

You had started dating in April, so you missed Valentine’s Day by two months last year. When the shops started to fill with cheap teddies and overpriced chocolate, you internally groaned. It was only mid-January. You weren’t sure how Van felt about the day. He was not overly sentimental, and he had mostly followed your lead in terms of establishing the norms and expectations of your relationship. You had celebrated each other’s birthdays, and agreed that Christmas would be a crafty affair. The rule was you had to make each other a gift. Naturally, he made you a song. You spent hours carefully braiding pieces of expensive materials together to form a bracelet. It hadn’t been taken off his wrist since.

Van was following you through the mall when he stopped in front of a window display. You kept walking and talking, unaware of his pause. You went to look up at him to find him gone. You took the few steps back and stood next to him in front of the window.

There were red and pink hearts made of card hanging from transparent fishing line. They slowly rotated. On a white podium, a huge basket sat. It was filled with chocolate, multiple small teddies, and weird games designed to be ‘sexy’ but really made you cringe both physically and mentally.

“How do you feel about Valentine’s Day?” Van asked, leaning up to see what was in the back of the basket.

“How do you feel ‘bout it?”

“Asked you first,”

“I’ve never really been seeing anyone around the time. Guess I don’t mind much. Whatever,”

“Would have thought you’d be more cynical,” he said looking across at you. His fingers threaded through yours. “I want to do something. You don’t have to do anything. This can be a me for you thing, yeah?”

“You don’t need to, Van. We’re good at everyday stuff. I cook for you; you get me little things. We’re good,”

“What if I want to, though?”

And he did, so he won.

…

No more conversations were had, and Van went on tour at the start of February. You had thought maybe he forgot about it. You saw him on the eleventh, the day he returned. You showered together and spent the afternoon and evening in bed, half asleep, half in catch up conversation. You stayed at his on the twelfth, and had breakfast at the markets down the road on the thirteenth. You had no future plans after that point, but usually called each other in the morning.

On the fourteenth the first person to call was Jenna, your best friend. She was house hunting and there was a last minute open inspection that she wanted you to come to.

“Y/N. Please! You’re the most honest of us and I need that brutal opinion.”

She said she’d make it worth your while, and take you to lunch. You would have gone regardless, but any chance to celebrate Taco Tuesday was a bonus.

While Jenna was speaking to the real estate agent your phone rang.

“Hey Van,” you greeted.

“Hey babe. How are you?”

You told him about Jenna’s future house. It had a working fireplace, and a free standing bath. It was perfect. He asked how excited for Taco Tuesday you were, and if you wanted to do something the next day. The day after Valentine’s Day, that was. You happily said yes, and pushed the feeling of disappointment to the back of your mind. You were the one that said it was a non-event of a day.

…

“Are you alright, mate?” you asked Jenna when she was taking almost an hour to drink one cup of Coke.

“Yeah, of course! I’m totally getting this house. Why?”

“Why are we still here then? Is there like, something you wanted to talk about or something? Everything okay with Dylan?” you used your gentle voice. She laughed.

“What is the time?”

“A little after five,” you told her, looking at your phone.

“Oh! Alright. We’re good. I’ll drop you home.”

You were confused but followed her to her car. Jenna was vague and spacey at the best of times. She was probably killing time before her date with Dyl.

You said goodbye to her and walked into the apartment building. When you saw the envelope taped to your door, you knew what Jenna had done. The envelope had your name on it in Van’s handwriting. She was keeping you away from the apartment. He’d not forgotten.

You unstuck the envelope and opened it. Inside was confetti and glitter; two things Van hated and you loved. The fact that he was willing to touch it was a good enough present, regardless of anything else to come. The glitter covered your hands and fell on your feet. Your shoes sparkled and you smiled to yourself. There was a small piece of folded paper too. It read, "I love you more than you love Sunday night bubble baths." It was cute, and if true meant he loved you a whole lot. You felt the excitement in you grow. Eager to see if there was more, you fished your keys out of your bag quickly and unlocked the door. 

You went inside. At first nothing seemed different. There were no flowers or balloons or uselessly oversized toys. There was also no Van. Everything was still. You stood for a moment, listening, waiting. Nothing. You closed the door and walked through to your bedroom; nothing. Confused you went back through the living room and kitchen, which both occupied the same space. You flicked the switch on the kettle, ready to make tea. The bathroom! Sunday night bubble baths. You'd not checked there, and wondered how you didn't think of it straight away. Bathrooms probably weren't typically associated with romance, but for you and Van yours certainly was. A mermaid in another life, you spent as much time as possible in the bath. In love with you in this life, Van spent as much time as possible on the bathroom floor watching you in the bath. You'd shower together and brush your teeth together and he'd bring a bar stool in from the kitchen and sit and watch you do your makeup. When you opened the door, you made a small squealing sound. 

Written across the mirror in eyeliner (you hoped he used one of your cheap backups) was one word: Milo. You didn't think about it too much, because sitting on the vanity was a big box closed with a sparkly silver ribbon. You untied the bow and took the lid off. Inside were bath bombs and bubble bars from Lush. It smelt like paradise. As you picked each up you saw there was more in the bottom of the box. There was two new eyeshadow pallets - the ones on your wishlist that you'd never buy yourself because you couldn't justify spending that much on makeup. You pretended to be annoyed that Van would, but you were dead happy about it. You focused again on the mirror. Milo. It took you a second. The cat! 

A few blocks over you'd found an injured cat. He was ginger, and you knew he had a home because he had let you pick him up, comfortable around humans. Overwhelmed with empathy for the thing, you burst into tears and called Van. He was there within ten minutes and drove you to the closest vet. Milo was microchipped, and his owners were called. You sat in the waiting room to make sure they'd come. They did, and the little girl hugged you tight. Milo was her "bestest" friend, she told you. 

You left the box in the bathroom, and picked up your bag from the kitchen bench. You walked the few blocks, and when you turned the corner onto the last street, you could already see it. There were balloons tied to the lamp post where Milo had first been. When you stood under them, there was another envelope. It had your name on it, and you were surprised it was all still there. More glitter, more confetti. The letter read, "Find Larry." That one didn't take you long to decipher. 

It was in the first few weeks of dating Van that you had spent all night looking for Larry. He'd gone missing from the party you were at, and Van was worried. You had caught five buses by the time you found him sitting on the curb outside of a 24/7 McDonalds. "Just wanted a burger, mate," he'd said happily. 

Once you got your bearings, you realised you were close to the McDonalds. A walk would take fifteen minutes, or you could jump on the next bus heading that way. You opted for a walk, just in case there was chocolate at some point. You untied the balloons from the post and walked with them through the city. You expected another clue, a direction, but instead Larry was standing where he had months ago. He was waiting for you with a smile on his face. 

"Y/N," he greeted and you hugged awkwardly around the balloons. "Come on." You followed him across the road and down a side alley. His car was parked. "Swap you," he said as he opened the boot and pulled out a flat, but wide box. It matched the one at home in the bathroom. He took the balloons and struggled to put them in the back of his car while you walked to the front, using the hood as a table. You set the box down and opened it. You unfolded the layer of tissue paper to find a coat. It was easily the most beautiful coat you'd ever seen. It was made of a thick grey wool, and the lining was floral print. There was a hood, and the buttons were like Paddington Bear's. There were pockets on the outside, and the inside. You pulled it on and grinned. Larry stood in front of you. "That fits perfect, doesn't it?" You put your hands into the pockets and twirled. As you did, you could feel something in your hand. You pulled an envelope out. Larry smiled. You wondered if they had an argument about if you'd find it or not. The letter inside (glitter, confetti) said, "From where you'd rather be." 

"Larry, can I get a lift?" 

...

Larry dropped you at the lookout. He said you wouldn't need your bag, and he'd look after the balloons too. You waved him goodbye, and looked around. The lookout was unsurprisingly very busy with cars and people. The sun was setting, and the view was incredible. You turned away from it though, and started to walk up the hill. There was no path, but you knew where you were going. 

You had been sitting in Jenna's car. There was meant to be a lightning storm, and you wanted a front row seat. The lookout was deserted, and she suggested sitting on the roof. You tried to work out if the car was likely to attract lightening, and the odds of dying. You couldn't do the math... or the science... so you climbed the car regardless. When another car's headlights shined across the lot, you were surprised. It pulled up next to you. Van stepped out of the passenger seat and looked up at you. He was with Larry and Bob. Within an hour he was begging for your number, and within another you were following him up the hill on foot. He said the views were better, "Like, 'from where you'd rather be' postcard kind of views, babe" he promised. You kissed under the storm. 

It didn't take long to get to the flat grassy area. You saw Van before he saw you. He was pacing, nervous. There was a picnic blanket and a basket. When you stepped into the clearing he looked up and grinned. You ran the last few steps and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stumbled back, but regained his balance quickly. He went to say something, but you kissed him hard instead. You left your forehead pressed against his when the kiss ended. 

"Thank you," you said. 

"Was it too much? Do you like-"

"Oh my god, Van, I love it all. Thank you, seriously."

He seemed relieved. You sat on the blanket and watched the sun disappear under the horizon. In the basket was all your favourite foods from the gourmet store you had to catch three buses to get to. Van hated it, but he'd drive you over whenever he could. There was pumpkin bread, three different types of cheese, fresh avocado and blueberries, and a bunch of other things you'd pointed out to him on various trips. There was indeed chocolate. 

Spread out flat on the blanket, you and Van tried to work out where specific constellations where. When you couldn't recognise any, you made up your own. He held your hand tight. After the game ended, and you'd been lying silent for a while, he spoke again. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, babe."


End file.
